Poem: Eggplant
Eggplant
will steal the eggplant
which we have growing
in the front yard,
the one Melissa says
should grow large
as any to be found
in the store,
the one I imagine
as a dark, purple belly,
as a womb, swelling,
ripening with seeds.
I have watched it,
seen sun light stretched
along its surface,
watched to see
how it comes
into fullness,
a bit each day,
but I worry:
many lizards
live in the yard.
I see them daily,
tails raised,
eyes wide and black,
but yet to see it.
Is "when"
the only question?
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